


Let the Lambs Scream

by Unemployedelf



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Incarcerated Hannibal, M/M, Murder Husbands, Silence of the Lambs AU, incarcenated will, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unemployedelf/pseuds/Unemployedelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In cells facing each other, were Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.</p>
<p>"Lecter, Graham." Chilton's voice broke through the quiet of the room. "You have a visitor."</p>
<p>Both men looked Starling with differing levels of interest.</p>
<p>"Hello, I'm Agent Starling."</p>
<p>Their smiles were a terrible thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

Agent Clarice Starling knew why Jack Crawford picked her to question Will Graham, and, by proxy, Hannibal Lecter. She read the report of both of them, after she was assigned this 'mission'.

Clarice Starling was from Virginia, but both her parents were of Korean descent. Her black hair was straight, and stopped a little past her shoulder. Her face was rounded, and she had a slightly pointed chin. Her eyes, a dark brown, seemed to glimmer with understanding constantly. She was told that she was beautiful many times in her life by men, and each time she liked that statement less and less. 

Starling knew she looked like Beverly Katz.

Apparently, Crawford thought that would soften Graham up. They were friends, Katz and Graham, and had no bad blood between them before Katz died.

"Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass them nothing but soft paper - no pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in their paper. Use the sliding food carrier, no exceptions. If one of them attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, sir."

"Lecter will make you feel uneasy, and on edge, but Graham- he will know how to play you, just by the way you tap your foot or blink your eyes. He's, arguably, more dangerous than Lecter. "

Dr. Chilton rubbed his left cheek absently, as if unaware what he was doing. Starling noticed that what he said about Graham- "he will know how to play you."- sounded personal.

Starling knew all about Dr. Chilton. The man was attacked by three different serial killers; he was framed for multiple murders, was shot in the face, had his organs taken out of his own body while alive and awake, his lips bitten off, and then set on fire. 

And yet, here he was. 

Dr. Chilton's face was covered in scars from skin grafts. Patches of different shades of skin, some his, some donors were stitched into his body like a macabre quilt. His lips, one his own, the other not, were cosmetically almost perfect, but he still had a slight lisp, the kind that most don't notice until someone pointed it out.

Dr. Chilton didn't go out much these days.

Starling followed Chilton through the hallway of the BSHCI, the sounds of her flats and his cane tapping against the limonium floor. 

"I keep them in the basement." Chilton told Starling. They were both walking slow; Starling following at a snail's pace because of Chilton's aggressive limp. Starling wondered briefly if he should be in a wheelchair, but was too proud to use it. Or if it brought up memories of his attack. "It's safer for everyone that way." A flicker of distaste clouded Chilton's face briefly. "I would like to keep them on different floors, but, legally..."

Crawford told Starling about that. On their 10 year run from the law, they somehow got married legally. Which meant that had rights to see each other, for conjugal visits, the such. 

Starling nodded her head to show she understood.

Chilton and Starling walked through 3 sets of doors, each one with its own security, before walking though the final doorway. 

In cells facing each other, where Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

Both were in the standard grey jumpsuits that prisoners got, and both were crossed legged on their respective beds, looking at each other unblinkingly.

Graham was in glasses, and was in need of a haircut and a shave, his dark curly locks almost covering his ears. He had a crude scar running down one of his cheeks, and another, neater, one on his forehead. He was expressionless, and did not look up at the sound of doors opening; neither did Lecter.

Lecter's light brown hair had flecks of gray in it, but he still looked fit for his age. He was not expressionless, instead looking at Graham-his husband- with clear adoration.

"Lecter, Graham." Chilton's voice broke through the quiet of the room. "You have a visitor."

Both men finally looked Starling with differing levels of interest.

"Hello, I'm Agent Clarice Starling." Starling kept her head up, refusing to look intimidated. 

Graham only kept his eyes on her for a second before looking at Chilton.

"How are you, Frederick?" 

Graham's voice was soft, and had the underlying of a southern accent. He was from Louisiana, Starling remembered. 

Chilton's face crumpled, as if he meant to wince, or grimace, but his patchwork of skin didn't know how to do it.

"I'm fine, Mr. Graham." Chilton replied bitingly. Graham smiled sweetly at Chilton, who made a point of avoiding eye contact.

"Good luck." Chilton told Starling quietly before quickly-for him- leaving the room. 

"I think you upset the good doctor, Will." Hannibal's accented voice said from behind Clarice. Starling turned to face him.

Lector's smile was a terrible thing.

"Hm." Graham hummed in agreement, eyes locked on the door where Chilton left. "Poor thing." His eyes trailed over to Starling now. "He tries to spend as little time with us as possible," Graham explained.

Lecter, arms behind his back, stood up from his cot. "So, Agent Starling-"

"Ms. Starling, isn't it?" Graham cut Lecter off, eyes locked on Starling now. Lecter just raised a brow curiously. "Not agent. You're a trainee; aren't you?"

"I'm an agent for these case." Starling told him coolly. 

"And what case is that, Trainee Starling?" Lector questioned. 

Starling felt like she was getting whiplash, looking back and forth between them.

"I would like you to look at this, Mr. Graham." Starling pulled a packet of paper from her bag. The papers included descriptions of the murders, photos, and a profile. She took out the paper clips before handing it to Graham through the food slot.

Graham didn't take it.

"Jack sent you, didn't he?"

A pause. Starling thought about her options.

"Yes."

Graham's face converted to disgust. 

Hannibal looked at him.

He looked at Hannibal, a slight frown on his face, his eyes seemingly pouring with sadness.

Starling felt as if they were talking to each other with their eyes. 

"Mr. Graham," Starling tried again. "Would you please look at these? We need your help."

"Yes, Jack always seems to want my help. And who am I to deny him that?" Graham's shoulders slouched, causing him to look absolutely pitiful.

"Jack has caused my husband much pain." Hannibal said cooly.

"Well, so have you, haven't you, Dr. Lecter?" Starling questioned. 

"I broke him in. Jack just broke him."

"I'm not broken." Graham called out. 

"No, of course not, dear." Lecter looked amused.

Probably because, in that moment, Graham did look broken.

Starling mentally looked back at the file she was given on Lecter and Graham. When they were found and arrested, Graham's lawyer attempted to try for a defense of Stockholm; that Lecter kidnapped and brainwashed Graham to feel like he had to be with Lector, or else.

Graham denied that defense. 

Now looking at both men, Starling wondered why; was it because that didn't happen, or was it because it was true?

Starling remembered the warning both Crawford and Chilton gave her.

Beware of Graham.

"Mr. Graham, please. Just look at these." 

Graham looked at her for a moment, blue eyes seemingly staring through her, before he face a slight nod, sitting up and heading towards the slot. 

"Call me Will," he muttered as he took the pictures and profile. 

Graham looked at the papers Starling gave him in silence, Lecter and Starling both looking at him curiously, both eager to see what his mind will produce. 

It was almost 5 minutes when Graham finally lifted his head, gasping for air as if the minutes he spent looking at the papers were spent underwater. 

"Mr. Graham?" Starling questioned. 

"This is Buffalo Bill, isn't it?" Graham questioned. "I've seen the reports about him in the papers they give us." 

Starling nodded slowly.

"How did they get that dreadful name?" Lecter queried.

"Officers at Kansas City Homicide made a... tasteless joke that 'this one likes to skin his humps'." Starling told him, swallowing. 

Lecter hummed.

"Mr. Grah-"

"He hates himself." Will cut him off. "Hates what he is. He wants to be something else, needs to be... The women he's skinning, he's using the skin for something."

"For what?"

"It's important to him." Graham added vaguely.

"Mr. Graham do you know what he's doing? Can you tell me anything else?"

"Yes, I can." Graham answered easily as he put the papers back in the slot. "But I won't."

Graham went back to his cot, lying down on his back.

Anger curdled Starling insides. 

"Mr. Graham-"

"Hannibal could help you. He knows this person." 

Starling's head whipped almost comically to Lecter, who smiled pleasingly at her.

"Who is he?" Starling questioned.

"He was a patient, briefly. I could not help him, though, so I handed him off to another." Hannibal told her. "And that's all I will say for now. Goodbye, Trainee Starling." 

Lecter moved to sit at his desk, picking up a felt pen.

Starling felt dismissed. 

"Mr. Graham, Dr. Lecter-"

"Come back again, and we'll tell you more. Patience." Lecter remarked, humor clear in his voice.

Starling huffed. She thought over the information she got, before deciding it was enough, for now, to show Crawford.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, not waiting for either men to respond before heading out. 

Once the doors closed, Will turned so he was on his stomach, and Hannibal turned so he was straddling the chair.

Each looked at each other for a moment.

"You have a plan," Will observed.

"So do you." 

"Yes."

Both men smiled. It was a terrible thing.


	2. I Know

_______________________________________

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing Ardelia Mapp, Starling’s best friend and roommate asked when Clarice walked into their room.

Clarice gave a tired smile and a shrug.

Ardelia was always looking out for Clarice, since they met years ago, making sure Clarice was at her best, both by taking care of her, and mocking her. Clarice didn't know if she could fall in love, but if she could, it would be with someone like Ardelia.

“Just got back from Crawford’s office-before that, I was visiting Graham and Lecter.” 

Ardelia winced in sympathy before crawling over her bed to seat on Clarice’s bed with her. 

“What was it like?”

“Which one? Crawford? Or-”

“Both.”

Clarice sighed, resting her head against Ardelia’s shoulder. 

“Crawford is worried; he thinks Graham and Lecter will use me, but he knows this is the most they have ever talked to anyone.”

“What are they like?” Ardelia asked, curiosity dripping from each word. 

Clarice thought about it. “They're both unsettling.” She told Ardelia. “Graham- he seems almost sad and a little confused why he's there; but he's also fierce in his thoughts, and his thoughts are brilliant.” Clarice paused. “Lecter...I don't know how to pin him. He doesn't like me, I'm sure of that, and he's infatuated with Graham, but, I don't know.” Adelia started stroking Clarice’s hair. 

“Be careful, Clarice.”

“I'm always careful.”

“We both know that's bullshit.” 

Clarice laughed, truly feeling relaxed. Well, she did, until Ardellia said, “did you manage to get a glimpse of the news? Buffalo Bill got another.”

Clarice’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“Well, they think he does. She fits the profile; and guess what? She's the senator’s daughter.”

Clarice squeezed her eyes shut.

“Crawford didn't tell you?” Ardelia sounded surprised. 

“No, he didn’t. Probably is waiting until tomorrow, after I get back form Lecter and Graham.” 

“Hm.” Ardelia said. “Okay, new topic; I need help with my forensic project.”  
__________

Starling didn't even get to say anything the next time she visited Graham and Lecter, before Lecter spoke. 

"Trainee Starling, good morning."

"Good morning, Dr. Lecter." Starling looked Lecter over- the man was over in the front corner of the cell, looking at Will, adoration clear in his eyes- before turning to Graham.

Graham was asleep on his cot, on his back, chest rising and falling in a soothing motion. One arm was straight down, the other laying on his face, covering his eyes. 

"Will still doesn't sleep much, so I let him sleep in, on the occasions that his dreams are clear." Lecter told Starling, noticing her eyes on Graham.

"That's...sweet." Starling allowed slowly, eyes still locked on Graham. Asleep, it almost looked impossible that he could be a cannibalistic serial killer.

Almost.

Lecter hummed. "What could I do for you, Trainee Starling?" 

Starling took a deep breath, before turning to Lecter. "I need the name of Buffalo Bill." 

Starling locked eyes with Lecter, who strayed his own from his husband.

"Hm. Where are you from, Trainee Starling?" Lecter asked.

Starling sighed. Well, what could it hurt? Maybe if she answered, he'll trust her a little. 

"West Virginia." She answered. 

"West Virginia?" Lecter glanced at Graham’s sleeping form one last time. “What did you think of West Virginia, Trainee Starling?”

“You've been to West Virginia, Dr. Lecter.” Starling said dryly, itching to just get answers and go.

It's true that Lecter was an interesting person, but he set her on edge. Graham was similar, but in his own way, he was less threatening; calmer. Sadder, Starling thought. Was it Lecter’s fault that he was sad? 

Starling quickly banished those thoughts.

“I want to know what you thought of West Virginia.” Lecter told her, stepping as close as he could to her.

Starling prided herself on not looking away, or backing up.

“You're an only child, aren't you?” 

Starling also prided herself on not jumping at the unexpected sound of Graham’s voice.

“Mr. Graham, that has nothi-” Starling turned to face Graham, taking a step towards the man’s cage. He was sitting up now, hair a mess from sleep. Though he still looked tired, he managed to cut Starling off.

“And...you had one parent, didn’t you?” Graham stood up, walking slowly to the glass, as if he was approaching a wild animal, a stray dog, and if he moved to fast it would run in fear. 

Starling didn’t know what she did- did her eye twitch? Did she swallow?- that made Graham nod his head, confirming what he previously said. “A dad. He left though. When you were young?”

“He didn’t leave.” Starling spat, voice shaky.

“He died.” Graham said softly, looking straight into Starling’s eyes.

Starling didn’t notice until now that he hasn't done that at all during their previous conversations.

“Something routine, probably, right?” Graham continued. 

Graham’s voice spoke of understanding and pain. Starling had to look away, closing her eyes. She hated thinking of her father; it caused her too much pain. She loved him dearly, after all these years he still was her best friend.

“What happened, Clarice?” Graham whispered.

“He was a cop. Routine patrol. Got shot.” Starling was aware that the way she told Graham what happened sounded robotic. 

“And what happened to you?”

“I moved.” Starling looked up at Graham again. “I lived with my uncle, at a farm.”

Graham smiled softly. “What was on the farm? Sheep, pigs, dogs?” Graham glanced at his husband, briefly, from behind Starling, before looking back at Starling. “I like dogs.”

“There were no dogs,” Starling said, sounding sorry for the fact. And, somehow, she did feel bad about letting Graham down about the fact. Graham was easier to talk to. Like a blank, sympathetic slate, one that Starling didn’t want to let down, as if it might break. “It was a horse and sheep farm.” she clarified. “But Mr. Graham, I didn't come here to discuss my childhood.” 

“Right, sorry.” Graham gave another half smile. 

“Could you tell me anything else about Buffalo Bill?” she tore her eyes away from Graham to look at Lecter, who was looking at the two of them with an unreadable expression. “Either of you?”

“Lets just say, I don’t think the killer would appreciate the word Bill in the name the media has gave.” Graham told her. 

Lecter nodded. “Detest it, more like it.”

“The killer...is a woman?” Starling guessed, trying to piece together the puzzle Graham and Lecter were giving her. Graham shrugged, and stepped away from the glass to slouch against his cot. He ran a hand through his hair, and Starling had the brief image of Ardelia who once said men only ran a finger through their hair if they were stressed, or hitting on you.

Starling wondered what made Graham stressed.

“They aren’t a man, but they aren't allowed to be a woman.” Graham told her.

“A transgender serial killer?” Starling questioned, surprised. She hasn't heard of that before. She actually never heard of a trans person doing any sort of violent crime; usually they were the receiving end of it.

Graham hummed in .

“Is that why he-Is that why she went to see you, Dr. Lecter?” Clarice turned to Lecter.

“It was part of it.” He said, not clarifying. 

“Will you tell me the other part?” Clarice asked, trying to go for nice.

“No,” he sounded amused.

“Hannibal,” Graham tutted at his husband, before he eyes went to Clarice’s. “Come here, please.”

“No,” Starling told him, obviously hesitant. Graham smiled softly again. 

“I promise I won't do anything to hurt you. Look,” he raised both hands, showing Starling the front and the back of his hands, and then folding them behind his back. “I won't touch you.”

Starling took a step foreword. “What is it?”

“Closer, please, Agent Starling.” Graham told her,

Starling took another step. She was now at the line.

“I need to whisper it, Starling.” Graham told her. “I want it to be between you and me.” Starling turned her head to look at Lecter. He was looking at them, obviously displeased. 

Starling took a step, now right up to the cage. Graham could grab her, if he so wanted to, could shove his arm through the holes or the slot and attack.

He didn't. Instead, he rested his head against the glass, and whispered almost as if in prayer, “I know her name.”

“Buffalo Bills’?” Starling asked, also whispering.

Graham nodded.

“Please, Mr.Graham, tell me.” Starling thought she might sound as if she was begging.

“I want to, Clarice, I do.” Slowly, he moved his hands from behind, and deliberately placed one hand on the glass. “But what will I get out of it?”

“You want a deal?” Starling questioned. She thought about what he could possibly want. A cell with his husband? A cell away from his husband? What?

“I want a deal.” Will nodded, before taking a step back. “See me tomorrow, so I can discuss it with you.” He confirmed. “See me tomorrow; and we can talk about it.”

How long were they going to bait her for? 

Graham, though easy-in a way- to talk to, was in a hospital for the criminally insane. He was a killer; even if it was by Stockholm, or his own will; Clarice could not afford to forget that. 

A girl was missing, and was alive, for now. Clarice needed these men to help her get the girl. 

“Please, just tell me now.” Starling.

Graham shook his head, taking another step back. “Tomorrow,” he said with such finality that Starling knew it was hopeless to try and talk to him.

Starling nodded curtly. “Mr. Graham,” she said her goodbyes, “Dr. Lecter,”

Starling walked out, head high, making sure that neither men could see her anger. She was chosen for this project, this mission, and she knew she could do it. But Will Graham was making this increasing difficult. Giving her pieces but not the full meal. In jail, Starling thought,and under Hannibal’s influence, he probably didn’t have the upper hand a lot- or at all. And now was the perfect chance to get it. Starling wanted to cuss.

Once she was at a safe distance away, Hannibal spoke. “It's almost like you want me to be jealous, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was cold, detached, but Will could feel the anger that Hannibal was burning inside. 

Will gave him a soft smile. “Shh, you know what I’m doing.” Hannibal still looked displeased, so Will walked right up to the glass. “Come here.” he commanded. Hannibal did, walking right up to his side of the glass, across from Will. This was the closest they could get. “She means nothing to me, Hannibal. You know that. I’m using her.” 

“You are mine,” Hannibal’s voice was fierce, demanding. If Will was closer, he would be able to see Hannibal’s eyes shine, not with tears, but with passion. 

“And you are mine.” Will whispered. “And that little bird over there thinks that I am submissive, but wants control. She will come tomorrow, and try to use that against me, but she is a dull tool, and will fail. I can get us out, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal didn’t answer; instead, he placed his hand against the glass. Will, strangely, pictured Hannibal while searching for the Dragon, so many years ago. 

“I want to touch you,” Hannibal said simply, as if he was saying instead he wanted to take a walk, or read a new book. 

“I want to be touched.” Will responded, less simple. Will closed his eyes, and Hannibal followed suit, and together they went into their mind palace, the only place where they could touch freely on their own time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, this is pure hannibal/will, with no clarice/hannibal/will, or whatever. They are using her. well, will is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y I K E S. 
> 
> okay so i haven't updated in like am month... and all i got was this.
> 
> I have a good reason tho?
> 
> school has been a bitch, and i accidentally wrote a bunch of other chapters for this one, before realizing, wait no, i need something between these. Oops. But! I will def. update sooner than this one for the next chapter

Jack Crawford was a tired man. His eyes were dulled from pain and betrayal, and his mouth was set in what seemed a constant hard line.

Clarice thought he was a hero for the longest time, from when she met him at her college, until quite recently; she knew he wasn't a hero, now. He was just human.

“Bill got another.” Was his greeting when Starling walked into his office.

Starling nodded. “I know.” She shrugged off her satchel into a desk chair. “Heard about it on the news.”  
Crawford rubbed his tired eyes, and massaged his temples. “So you understand why this is now extremely important? The senator, she’s already called me personally.”

“I’m trying to get them to open up, sir. Graham even said he wants- he said if we gave him a deal, then he will tell us.” Clarice carefully covered up her slip up; it would not be in her favor to say Will wants to help.

Crawford shook his head. “We can’t make a deal with them.” He paused, clearly thinking. Starling let him think in silence, not talking. “But we can make them think we will let them…” he trailed off.

“Sir?”

“Was it only Will, or did Lecter say he also wanted a deal?”

Starling shook her head. “Only Will, sir.”

“Lie to him. Tell him you will give him the deal, but only if he gives us the name.”

“And when he figures out i'm lying? When he doesn't get what he wanted?” Starling felt uneasy about lying to Graham. 

“It will be no problem of yours. Hopefully, neither of us will see them again.” Crawford looked like he swallowed a lemon, so Starling took that as a sign should she be dismissed. 

“Yes, sir.”

 

____________

Hannibal Lecter often thought about Will Graham; one could argue that Graham took the entirety of his thought, that every action and purpose lead back to his husband.

They would not necessarily be wrong.

Just right now, Hannibal was looking at Will as the other man sat on his cot, fishing in his mind palace, trying to decipher what game he was playing.

They both had a plan on how to leave, each other being the other’s backup. But Starling seemed to pay attention only on Will, causing Hannibal’s plan to curl up and die; Hannibal could, of course, understand her fascination with Will, but Will’s own interactions with her?

Hannibal has never felt the overwhelming need to kill such a polite person until now.

Will swore that his interest in her was fake, but the way he looked at her reminded Hannibal was the way he had looked at Alana, the way he was sure he must had looked at his wife.

The way he looked at Hannibal himself.

Hannibal thought about the ‘deal’ he and Will had made about a year into their life together- if Hannibal tried to leave Will, then Will would kill Hannibal, and then himself. And vice versa. 

Hannibal hoped he wouldn't have to kill Will.

____________

Will knew what game he was playing. 

He knew that Hannibal was not a part of it, not really.

He knew that Hannibal was afraid that Will was breaking away from him.

Will knew that Hannibal was thinking of if he would have to kill him.

Will was okay with that.

As he and Hannibal gripped each other during their once a week conjugal meeting, Will whispered praise into his skin, bit him, then whispered again, a pattern that Will knew drove Hannibal crazy.

Neither would kill the other.

Because Will Graham was Hannibal’s, and nothing would change that. 

Will could pull and twist and play with little Clarice Starling, could make her think he was soft, confused, innocent, or nothing at all. He could slide on the Louisianian drawl on thick, make her connect him with home in the south. He could, he is, he will, and still, she would mean nothing to him.

Will wondered why Hannibal thought low of him like this, thinking he would leave him, after all they have been through. He may know Hannibal better than anyone, but with things like this, he still confused him.

After they both came, Hannibal had grabbed Will’s face harshly with both hands. “I love you.” 

Will gave him an honest smile. “I love you.”


End file.
